


a million stars in sight

by quietlyintoemptyspaces



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bonnie & Clyde, Consensual Kidnapping, Happy Ending, M/M, On the Run, Possessive Behavior, Robbery, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietlyintoemptyspaces/pseuds/quietlyintoemptyspaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek starts again, on his own, with his uncle’s car and his uncle’s gun and a quick stop at the gas station on the way out of town. It’s just his luck the boy from the police station is there.</p><p>Stiles doesn’t seem all that put out about being taken at gunpoint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a million stars in sight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vampireisthenewblack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampireisthenewblack/gifts).



> I'm posting this from my phone, so sorry if there's any mistakes.
> 
> I'm not even sure where this is coming from. It startrd as a Bonnie and Clyde type thing (set in another fandom, but i got stuck early on - when i moved it to Teen Wolf fandom, it kind of just flowed, until the end) and the end is kind of taken from the movie Kill Me Later. I haven't seem it in a while though.
> 
> I hope i got all the tags right. I could probably add more, but at this point i'm not sure. Rated Mature for language and violence.

It takes a day to find the place. The road stretches out before them, the dark clouds above making everything look almost barren, like some apocalyptic wasteland. This is what the world is. 

Not for them.

Their backseat is filled with stolen cash, and jewels from friendly ladies who fell for a charming smile or a flirtatious wink. They are kings in this world; they rule with an iron fist and smite all of those who dare to oppose.

Derek’s hands guide the steering wheel in leather gloves, arms flexing beneath his shirt as his fingers drum against the dash. It’s a familiar tune, as familiar as the way Derek sets his jaw when he’s finally relaxed and settles back in his seat. Stiles fights the urge to slide across and closer, let the shifter fall between his legs so that every time Derek changes gears he’ll graze along Stiles’ thigh.

He’s done it before, in a chase. The exhilaration makes him hard, the thrill of cops being two seconds behind them, of being almost caught. He loves the manic look in Derek’s eyes when they’re being chased; he almost wishes they were being chased now.

Derek pulls him over anyway, settles him over his lap and gives Stiles a wet, hungry kiss. When he pulls away he says, “We’re almost there.”

No one’s going to expect them.

-

There’s a gun pressed to his temple. He can’t be certain because he can’t see it, but he can smell the gunpowder, can practically taste it. It should faze him, there should be two dozen doctors right now telling Derek exactly what’s wrong with him, but all he can think about are Stiles’ lips pressed against his, and the trill of excitement that’s building within his veins.

His fists are shaking, he’s grinding his teeth, and Stiles is an idiot who thinks he can save the day. Somehow, he ends up in a pile of glass with a long cut on his forehead. The seeping blood makes Derek’s rage roil inside and before he knows it, the gun is in his hand and he’s bashing the other guy in the brain. There’s spatter and thicker bits that fling up at him but he doesn’t think about it, just thinks of this punk hurting what’s his and then trying to hurt him. 

He won’t let it happen again.

Stiles has to pull him away, grabs the back of his shirt and yells out his name. It takes longer than it should for him to come back but when he does his knuckles ache and there’s nothing beneath him but a bloody, pulpy mess.

Stiles stares at Derek like it’s for the first time. It’s not in a bad way.

But it might be the beginning of the end.

-

In a strange twist of irony, they meet in a police station.

Stiles is the son of a Sheriff, and like the good kid he is he makes lunch and takes it in to his dad when he works too much overtime. Derek is charming Stephanie at the front desk when Stiles comes out of his dad’s office. The clang of the door closing must catch his attention, because one moment he’s flirting spectacularly and the next he’s staring with heat in his eyes at Stiles.

Stiles can feel his heart beating fast in his chest, cheeks flush and breathing rapid. It’s like instant attraction. Stiles blinks, comes back to himself, and slips out the front door before he can make more of a fool of himself.

-

Derek’s uncle used to be a police officer before the paranoia set in. Derek never tried to follow the law, listening to the tales Peter used to tell. He likes the power, the exhilaration, the things he can buy with stolen money.

At sixteen he runs away with an older woman because he thinks he loves her and she likes the kinds of things he likes. They fuck in the back of a stolen car, and in seedy motels paid for by credit cards that were never theirs. When the heat gets too close she leaves him on the side of the road.

He goes back home to listen to more stories from his uncle, maybe tell a few of his own. He’s not really heartbroken, but he does miss the sex.

Derek starts again, on his own, with his uncle’s car and his uncle’s gun and a quick stop at the gas station on the way out of town. It’s just his luck the boy from the police station is there.

Stiles doesn’t seem all that put out about being taken at gunpoint.

-

Their destination is a burned out hovel. Years ago it used to be a barn, or maybe even a house, but now it’s just a charred skeleton waiting for them. There’s a rickety ladder leading up to a loft where they finally rest, tangled and naked. It takes two days for the sirens to catch up.

It’s as they’re driving into the city for dinner, crossing a stretch of bridge. There’s no traffic, which should have been a tip off, but Derek is caught up in the way Stiles’ mouth moves as he speaks, talking about their future; he’ll be eighteen in two months and he wants to spend every day of the rest of their lives together.

There’s a blockade at the end of the bridge, and flashing lights coming in close behind. Stiles refuses to leave, even when Derek says it’ll be fine; he’s a minor, technically he was kidnapped even though he went along willingly. There’s no way Stiles could be held accountable for anything that’s happened.

Stiles grips Derek’s hand tight and doesn’t let go. They go over the edge.

-

The river is icy cold, but tastes fresher than anything Stiles has ever tasted. There’s a fire with a pot of boiling potatoes that keeps Stiles warm while he cooks. Behind him is a little lean-to built with spare lumber and decorated with odds and ends he picked up on the beach.

It’s not always this cold, but it’s getting closer to winter, and the blanket wrapped around Stiles’ shoulders only does so much.

Warm arms wrap around him and a beard scratches at the tender spot made on his neck the night before. “You should be doing this inside,” Derek says, and presses cold fingertips beneath Stiles’ shirt. “It’s warmer.”

Stiles smiles and lets Derek warm him with glorious hugs and generous kisses. “I was waiting for you.”

“Mm, well, that old lady who likes you accosted me earlier.” Derek tosses a crudely wrapped pack into Stiles’ lap. “She wanted me to give that to you.”

It’s another sweater, big enough to fit Derek even though Derek doesn’t like to wear them, smoked fish, herbs fresh from her garden, and a box, with a misshapen cake inside. Stiles smiles and swipes his finger through the frosting, paints it across the bridge of Derek’s nose and then his lips, kisses the taste away. “It’s hard to believe we’ve been here for a year already.”

“Do you ever regret it?” Derek asks.

“Not a damn day.”

Above them, the sky stretches out in endless twilight, the moon round and full and nestled in the stars, watching over them.


End file.
